Bust

Memoir, 2026

From the back of the cab I catch glimpses of Mackay - palm trees, long grass, utes, and empty bus stops. We pass the occasional barefoot bloke wearing footy shorts and a tank top. The streets hold a mix of Queenslanders and single story houses, with either rotting timber fences or mesh metal ones. It feels sunny but grey at the same time. Humidity curls like sinister, invisible smoke, even in Autumn.